


Just Another Day

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:58:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Day

      Brian rose from his cramped position in the chair and gingerly stretched his long legs, grimacing as his creaking joints supported the incontrovertible fact that he was not getting any younger. The disturbing number of gray hairs and deepening lines in his forehead corroborated an unwelcome truth. Peter Pan he was not.  
  
      He rotated his neck to rid himself of the morning’s stiffness from yet another fitful night’s sleep and stared out the window. At the fresh blanket of snow shrouding the street, he gave a bone-weary sigh, as if simply being alive exhausted him. The inordinate amount of white stuff this year was getting tiresome. It was only mid-February, February 14 to be exact, and he couldn’t remember a day when a gray pall didn’t envelop the city.  
  
      He turned around to see Justin peacefully sleeping, his features relaxed and unlined in slumber despite the passing years. “Hey, Sunshine, guess what? It’s snowing again! Big surprise! I know you love the snow, but Christ, we really should have moved to a warmer climate. Even my dick’s cold.”  
  
      Ignoring the squeak of his shoes on the polished floor, he trudged to the bed with his eyes fixed on the blond beauty. He ran a tender hand through the freshly shampooed hair, the silky strands gliding through his fingers like wisps of golden flax. He often wondered how or why the fates decided that, after all this time, they should still be together. Life really did hand out some weird shit.  
  
     “I’ll be right back,” he whispered. “You know I need my morning juice and coffee. Don’t miss me too much!”    
  
      Before leaving, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Justin’s serene countenance belied the difficult and tragic events in his life. The man lying on the bed embodied everything good in a person. He didn’t deserve Craig’s cruel refusal to accept him as his gay son and he certainly didn’t deserve to be bashed. His smothered bark of harsh laughter shattered the silence when he realized that he hadn’t included his own asshole behavior in the list. Way to go, Kinney!  
  
      With a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a glass of guava juice in the other, he noiselessly returned, taking constant sips of the chilled liquid to soothe his scratchy throat. Since the number of flu cases had increased in the past couple of weeks, he made a mental note to purchase one of the over-the-counter medications Justin always touted.  
  
      He skimmed through the daily paper, noting with a satisfied grin that once again he didn’t forget Valentine’s Day. His gaze turned to the twelve long stemmed roses on the other side of the room, one for each year they knew each other. It took him long enough to realize that little things make a difference.  
  
     “You know,” he mused out loud, “if I keep getting you a flower for every year we’re together, by the time we’re really old and gray, there won’t be any space left.”  
  
      After swallowing the last of his coffee, he pushed himself up from the chair. It had started snowing again. Hypnotized by the falling flakes, he was so engrossed in thoughts of the past, present and future, of roads traveled and choices made, that he didn’t hear the door quietly open.  
  
     “Mr. Kinney?”  
  
      Jolted from his reverie, he spun around with a dazed expression.  
  
     “I, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you,” the nurse stammered in embarrassment. “I just started my shift and the night nurse didn’t say you were here. I’ll come back later.”  
  
     “No, it’s ok! Do what you have to do. I—” A fit of sneezing reinforced his earlier suspicion. He was definitely getting sick.  
  
      She walked toward him, concern written on her face. “You have to go home and take care of yourself, Mr. Kinney. You shouldn’t be in a facility like this if you’re ill. Not only is it detrimental to the patients but you're putting yourself at risk as well.” She frowned and waited for the usual protestations to begin.  
  
      Still employed at the long-term health complex, she was one of the nurses on duty when Justin Taylor was admitted in a coma twelve years ago. Even without a chance of recovery, a multitude of specialists and experts were summoned to offer the family and this defeated man some shred of hope. But hope was not to be.  
  
      With one exception, the length and frequency of visits by family and friends decreased after a while. Most of them still visited on holidays, but it was this tragic figure who decorated the room for different occasions, who stayed every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, every New Year’s Eve and New Year’s day, every Thanksgiving, every balloon-decorated birthday, every flower festooned Valentine’s Day and an infinite number of days in between. It seemed as if he was always at Justin’s bedside, talking and reading to him or playing his favorite songs. When he couldn’t stay awake, he’d pull the chair closer to the bed and rest his head on the mattress, holding a motionless hand.  
  
      None of Justin’s needs went unchecked. Incredibly successful in advertising, whatever insurance didn’t cover, Brian Kinney did. The hospital grapevine buzzed that a few years ago he fought with the family to be instated as Justin’s Guardian or Conservator of Person so that he would have absolute authority over his care and well-being. Supposedly, he threatened to put them through legal hell if they didn’t agree, which of course, they wisely did. Even more incredible, if one believed the gossip, he was leaving everything he owned to Justin Taylor’s estate, providing explicit instructions in his will for the young man’s care until...well, until.  
  
      Working in the health profession her entire adult life, she had heard of the broken heart syndrome but never saw it up close until now, watching as Brian Kinney withered and deteriorated, physically and emotionally. She clearly remembered one particular incident a few years ago. There had been a slight reflexive movement in one of Justin’s fingers that caused the hazel eyes to briefly regain their spark. But after a battery of tests confirmed the initial diagnosis, they became lifeless and dull again.  
  
     “Mr. Kinney, you really should go home and rest. You know we’ll take good care of Justin.”  
  
      He gave her a blank look, then nodded in response. Drained by a plethora of emotions, he sluggishly grabbed his coat but despite a valiant effort, his arms wouldn’t cooperate to put it on. She rushed over to help him with the sleeve and was rewarded with a grateful smile. “Thanks,” he murmured, moving toward the bed.  
  
     “Want me to wait outside?” she asked hesitantly.  
  
      He shook his head. “No. I’ll just be a minute.”  
  
      With one hand stroking the pale cheek and the other holding his hand, he leaned over the bed and kissed the lips that had been silent all these years.  
  
     “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sunshine!”  



End file.
